The Mandala Effect: Prologue
by SociopathicAngel
Summary: When the Avengers investigate a magical event, they never expected that they would get sucked into alternate dimensions. (This is just the prologue to a series of stories that I will be writing. Each will be detailing a separate Avenger's adventure in their new surroundings, so stay tuned!)
1. Return of the Trickster

**(A/N: This will be my first** _ **large**_ **non-x-reader AND my first crossover** _ **AND**_ **my first non-avengers story! WHAAAATTTTT?!** _ **Please**_ **tell me if I'm not getting characters right or if there's any plot inconsistencies that you think I should work out! Reviews are greatly appreciated!)**

The Avengers knew there was trouble when the giant glowing green flower appeared in the night sky.

The team had been lounging in the common room of the tower when it simply appeared, starting as a single pinprick of light, identical to every other star in space, before spiraling outwards into an enormous lotus blossom design. The fantastic display hung directly over the stoic figure of the Statue of Liberty in the distance, her blazing torch pointed skyward as if to say, _'You guys had better get your butts in gear and fix this._ Now _.'_

Needless to say, they didn't need any further encouraging. They were all halfway into their suits when Fury called, a hologram of his stormy features popping up in front of Tony as he hastily stepped into the suit that had ejected itself from the far wall.

"Just what in _God's name_ is happening down there, Stark?" Fury asked in, well, fury. "The energy readings are off the charts! Get over there!"

"Well, what do you think I'm doing here, Nickey?" Tony replied with his usual dripping sarcasm, "Getting ready for a late night stroll? Rodgers, Banner, Romanoff, and Barton are loading in the jet as we speak. And Thunderpants," he said just as Thor reentered the room, his cape billowing behind him and his hammer held loosely in his hand, "is flying over with me."

Fury nodded once. "Good. I want whatever that is taken care of yesterday." The hologram blipped out and Tony and Thor flew out of the large window that Jarvis had opened for them, heading straight for the distant monument. They rendezvoused with the others a short distance from the base of the Statue of Liberty and briefly stared up at the lights above them as they rotated slowly against the void.

Steve was the first to tear his eyes away from the sight.

"Iron Man, have Friday scan the tower for any signs of life," the patriotic captain requested.

Tony quickly addressed his AI, "You heard the man, Friday. Scan the entire structure, top to bottom. I want a full spectrum, not just heat."

The display on the inside of his visor lit up in a glowing green grid as the program quickly swept over the metal of the statue. Less than a second later, the display focused on the high up torch, magnifying it so that Tony could see a patch of blue amongst the night vision green.

"Boss, there appears to be something moving around on the torch, but it's colder than the metal surrounding it," Friday noted, "Could be a machine, alien, or mutant, but it definitely isn't human."

Tony nodded and quickly relayed the information to Steve.

"Friday found something moving around on the torch, but it's far below 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit. Definitely not homo sapien." Thor sucking in a small surprised breath at this, but either no one heard or no one thought anything of it.

Steve nodded and began to concisely give out orders. "Everyone back in the jet. Iron Man and Thor, both of you fly up ahead of us. I'll have Friday take over and drop us off." Steve turned and jogged back towards the jet with the others, completely missing the sarcastic salute that Tony sent towards his retreating back.

Without further ado, Tony's repulsors activated, casting a blue glow in the dark as they propelled him into the sky a short distance behind Thor, whose lightning was crackling around him in anticipation.

They quickly circled the statue, the oxidized metal blurring past them as they approached the top of the structure. As they flew, possibility and theories traveled at a similar speed through Tony's mind.

 _Maybe a machine? No, Tony, you know machines. No machine could do this. Alien? Possibly. Mutant? Probably. Maybe that new fellow that popped up in Greenwich Village. What was his name? Dr. Weird… Dr. Odd…. Strange! Could be him. He did use some weird green energy against those supposed time travelers the other month. Although, it would have been nice I he had given us a heads up that he was going to be-_

His thoughts came to a screeching halt and he nearly fell out of the sky in surprise as the figure on the torch came into view. There, standing on the platform with his eyes glued to them in apprehension, was the Trickster himself.

A faint green aura surrounded Loki, leaving no room to doubt that the symbol in the sky was his work. Thor landed a few feet from him, hooking his hammer onto his belt and approaching Loki with his arms wide open before Tony could warn him to stay back.

"Brother! What are you doing here?" he exclaimed, an exuberant grin overtaking his features.

Loki held out his hands in warning, hastily trying to back away from Thor. "Brother, no! Don't come any-" Faster than any of them could react, a bolt of green energy shot from the aura surrounding the god of mischief, throwing Thor into the railing and denting it under his weight. The normally invincible god was passed out cold, a large scorch mark marring his once-clean chest plate.

"…closer," Loki finished, sighing in resignation at the oaf's foolishness. Apprehension once again took over his features as he looked up at the still-hovering man of iron. "I hope that you can see that that was completely his doing."

Tony didn't reply as he scanned Thor for vital signs. Once he was certain that the man wasn't in immediate danger of dying from him own stupidity, he turned his gaze, as well as his repulsors, towards the silver-tongued god.

"I would say that it's good to see you again, Reindeer Games, but then I'd be lying. Why are you here and what's with the light show?" Tony asked, keeping an eye out for the quin jet. _Might as well try to get some answers out of him before Barton pumps him full of arrows._

Loki held his hands up in a peace-making gesture. "I'm just trying to get home, Tony. I do not have the time to explain. Simply let me finish my spell and I will be out of your hair."

Keeping one repulsor focused on the lie smith, he held the other one up in a halting gesture. "Whoa, hold on, Prancer. Since when have we been on a first-name basis?" he asked, gesturing between them. "Also, what do you mean 'trying to get home'? Can't you just have Scotti beam you up?"

Loki's expression took on a slightly pained quality as his eyebrows drew together in a frown. His mouth opened in preparation to speak, but before he could answer Tony's questions, the jet finally arrived.

It rose up out of the dark so silently that Tony reflected that his modifications to the stealth tech might have been a bit _too_ good. It was as silent as an owl, as silent as death. The open cargo bay door came into view and there, feet planted in the opening, braced against the wind, stood Clint. An arrow was already knocked on the string of his bow as he drew it smoothly back. His thumb touched his cheek as he stared down his arrow. His eyes locked with Loki's and a moment stretched into a second, a minute, an hour, a year as the trickster's expression cycled from shock to fear to pain to worry, finally settling on something that could only be called grief. Clint let the arrow fly.

And the entire world promptly dissolved into chaos.

The arrow was halfway to Loki when a bell toll rang out and the symbol in the sky grew brighter, swirling faster and faster. The petals of the blossom curved downwards, creating a brilliant dome overtop of the statue. It began to shift from its serpent green, becoming a prism of colors; it faded from sunset orange to purple, burgundy to sinister green. Blood red and pitch black swirled in its center to create a dead sun before giving way to the colors of a spring forest. Happy yellow circled within gunmetal gray and the color of leather danced with shades of midnight and crimson.

When the arrow was three quarters of the way to Loki, he reached towards the dancing colors, his eyes searching.

When the arrow was seven eighths of the way to Loki, Clint disappeared into thin air. He began to glow green. Not like Loki with his signature emerald green, but with the greens that one might find in the shadows of an ancient forest, mottled and cool. Clint had barely a moment to blink before he simply… wasn't there.

Natasha, who had been standing directly behind Clint, let out an involuntary cry of despair. Her eyes fixed on Loki across the gap and her features quickly schooled themselves into steel. ' _Worry about Clint later_ ,' she thought to herself, ' _For now, make Loki regret that he ever laid hands, scepter, or magic on him._ '

Finally, the arrow reached the leather-clad god, but it deflected off of the encompassing green light with an electric crackle. Instead of lodging itself in flesh, it instead found a home in the bottom of Tony's left boot. The repulsor there sparked and sputtered and Tony fell, desperately trying to regain his balance as he accelerated towards the waves far below. Before he reached them, purple and orange hues swept him away.

As he vanished, Natasha took Clint's place on the open ramp and fired her entire clip at Loki, her face a mask of unadulterated rage. The bullets flew at the god like a swarm of hornets at an electric bug trap, ricocheting off into the night. As they disappeared, so did Nat in a flash of ebony and scarlet, her second gun halfway out of its holster.

Unnoticed amongst the chaos, Thor vanished in a glow of red, brown, and black. The dented railing was the only thing to suggest that he had ever been there at all.

Loki stood on the now empty platform, shocked by what had just occurred. This had _not_ been part of the plan. He had known that the Avengers would arrive before he completed the ritual. He had even casted a protection spell around himself in order to prepare for their arrival. But despite all his preparation he never thought that the spell could redirect this way. The spell was supposed to take him and him alone. It almost seemed as if it had taken on a mind of its own.

He finally recovered his wits and yelled across the gap to the jet. "Run you fools! Before you get sucked in as well!"

Inside the jet, his calls fell on deaf ears. Steve activated the electromagnets on the arm of his suit, causing his shield to fly into his grip. He quickly dropped his hand onto Bruce's shoulder, taking in his tense posture and the green tinted grief in his eyes. Bruce looked up and read the same grief in Steve's. They were the only ones left.

"If I go down or disappear like the others, let him out," Steve ordered, giving Bruce's shoulder one last steadying squeeze. "It's been an honor to call you my friend."

Bruce's features twisted in sadness, but he managed to nod in agreement and farewell. Steve turned towards the open bay door, tightening the grip on his shield, completely devoid of fear. This would be his last sacrifice, his last grenade.

"Friday, get us in close enough for me to jump," he ordered, his eyes glued to Loki.

"On it, Captain," the AI replied.

As the jet drew within a few meters of the platform, Steve took a running start and leapt through the air. He hit the floor with a thud, rolling to absorb the impact and bring himself to a kneeling position. He thrust upwards with his shield, using the large muscles in his legs to add force to the attack. The shield, like everything else, deflected off of the protection spell, but the aura seemed to be weakening. Miniscule cracks were spreading over its surface. Loki watched these with dread as he blocked Steve's attacks, giving ground under the onslaught of strikes. It took almost all of his concentration to keep the magic from lashing out at his attacker as it was supposed to.

"Why are you doing this?" Steve demanded as Loki blocked a punch aimed for his solar plexus, "Thor was your _brother_! What did you do to him?"

"Halt your attack and I might explain," Loki grunted as he turned aside Steve's shield.

"You'll attack if I do," Steve replied before aiming a kick at Loki's side.

To his surprise, the god caught the kick, gripping his foot and shoving it away from him so that Steve was forced to roll backwards into a kneeling position. As soon as he had some breathing room, Loki thrust his hands out towards Steve and glowing green chains shot from his palms. Steve came up just in time to see them and jumped out of the way, the restraints shooting past him.

Bruce had been watching the fight from the jet, becoming increasingly confused with every punch that was thrown. None of Steve's attacks landed because of the shield around Loki, yet the trickster didn't press his advantage. He simply backed away from Steve, sometimes dodging a particularly strong attack and sometimes blocking it or turning it aside. He had only just begun to ponder this when Loki shoved the captain away and summoned glowing chains from his palms. Steve dodged to the side and instead of restraining their intended target they continued across the gap and into the jet, coiling around Bruce. The scientist fell over in shock, the green tint in his eyes growing stronger, but before his head could crack against the hard floor, hues of storm clouds and sunshine caught him and carried him away.

Back on the torch, neither of the combatants had noticed his disappearance as they studied one another, one with distrust and one with exhaustion.

"I could have utilized my seidr at any time, you oaf," Loki sighed with no real vehemence behind his words. "You may relax. I swear on my life, I will not harm you. I don't think I could even if I tried," he chuckled.

Steve took in Loki's slumped, swaying form and lowered his shield, straightening carefully from the defensive posture that he had adopted, keeping his shield in front of his body. He watched Loki carefully, prepared to react instantly to any trickery. It was this attentiveness that saved the trickster's life.

In their fight, the pair had circled around the torch until Loki was standing next to the dent that Thor's body had created. Suddenly, large cracks appeared in Loki's shield. They spread over his body and the light completely shattered in a matter of moments. Loki's legs buckled and he fell towards the dent. He surely would have gone over if Steve hadn't sprung forward and caught him. Steve had seen plenty of people faint from exhaustion when he led the 107th to safety in World War II. He knew this wasn't a trick.

He carefully dragged the fallen god away from the edge, leaning him against the main part of the torch. Loki let out another low chuckle as his head lolled on his shoulders.

"Thank you," he laughed. "That could have been messy."

"What happened to you?" Steve questioned as he knelt a safe distance away from him.

Loki shook his head wryly. "I overextended myself. I believe the binding spell that I attempted was the one that set me over the edge, both literally and physically. The spell above us was only intended to transport myself, but it seems as if it has gained a mind of its own and decided to take your comrades instead. Transporting five people requires exponentially more energy than transporting a single man." He sluggishly pulled his legs in, folding them in front of him and resting his hand in his lap as he regarded the man next to him. "For once, I am being truthful; I did not mean for them to be taken."

The super soldier peered into the trickster's eyes and, detecting no deception there, nodded. He glanced up at the swirling symbol above them before standing and slinging his shield onto his back.

"If it took the others, why didn't it take me?"

Loki glanced upwards as well, his face briefly twisting into a scowl. "I- I do not know. Maybe there are still things that you need to know," he hypothesized, peering at Steve in curiosity.

Steve nodded. "There is one question that needs answering. If that thing just transports people, then are the others still alive?" he asked, hoping against hope that his assumption was true.

The god nodded and Steve's heart soared. Loki, seeing the excited and grateful light in the other man's eyes, couldn't help but smile sadly. Once he found out where they had been sent, he wouldn't be so happy.

"Where did the spell send them?" Steve asked, hardly able to contain himself.

Loki shook his head morosely, his features twisting into another expression of displeasure. "I truly am sorry, but I haven't the faintest clue. You see, the spell doesn't transport people over distances of miles, kilometers, lightyears, or any of your other Midgardian terms of measurement. The Mandala Effect is a _trans-dimensional_ transport and, seeing as there are an infinite number of parallel universes, finding them would be an impossible task. I doubt they were sent to the one that I had been aiming for."

Steve's heart deflated. How was he supposed to find them now? He leaned up against the torch and ran a hand through his hair and sighing in frustration. He gestured towards Loki.

"Where were you trying to go anyways? Looking for a world that isn't protected by superheroes?"

Loki chuckled again and Steve couldn't help but notice that he seemed to be much more cheerful than when they last saw them. He had just had his plans foiled and had almost died from exhaustion, and yet he seemed to find amusement in almost everything. "No, quite the opposite, in fact," the god replied, "You see, I'm not _your_ Loki. I'm from a different universe, one where you and I are friends."

Steve stared at the man across from him in surprise. His first instinct was to cry "That's not possible!" and claim that the god was trying to trick him, but he quickly dismissed the notion. When he thought about it, he had certainly encountered stranger things than this. He slowly shook his head in amazement with a wry smile.

"Well, that makes a lot more sense," he laughed. "You certainly don't act like our Loki. He would have called me a puny mortal a hundred times by now, insulted my intelligence twice as many times as that, and tried his hardest to kill me instead of laughing and thanking me for saving his life."

Good Loki, as Steve now called him in his mind, smiled sadly. "The me in this universe is not to be blamed for the entirety of his actions. When I first arrived here after a mishap in magical experimentation, he found me. The encounter was… disturbing, to say the least. He has been controlled by forces far stronger than him and he fights a fate worse than death. He is to be helped, not hated."

Steve's eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Loki opened his mouth to reply, but it suddenly snapped shut, his eyes widening as he felt an upward pull on what little was left of his magical stores.

His hand shot out and gripped Steve's arm with surprising strength. "I can feel the spell activating again! I don't know where you'll end up, but you _must_ survive," he insisted, desperately staring into Steve's eyes. "This world needs you. I will find a way to return you here, but you must stay alive."

Steve nodded. A glow of ruby red and emerald green had just begun to encircle him when an idea flashed into his mind.

"Find Doctor S-" he blurted out before he suddenly disappeared, his idea incomplete.

"Doctor who?" Loki asked the empty air before slipping into unconsciousness on an empty, dented platform thousands of feet in the air, an empty jet floating next to it. Far above him, the mandala blinked out of existence, fracturing, breaking apart, and fading way. The stars and moon once again shone alone in the night sky.

 **(A/N: Ok, so first of all, I hope you enjoyed that little intro! I'm going to post this story as several different stories. This first story will be the prologue and then each one after that will detail a separate Avenger's adventure in the universe that they were sent to. If you would like, review this story and try to guess which Avengers are being sent where! :) Also, I wanted to share the inspiration for this story. A little while back, I heard about this thing called the Mandela Effect (as in Nelson Mandela, but I misheard it as Mandala). This is a theory that explains the widespread misremembering of events by stating that people who experience this phenomenon have "slid" between parallel realities. Examples of the Mandela Effect include believing that "The Berenstain Bears" is spelled Berent** _ **e**_ **in, with an E, and believing that Nelson Mandela, the namesake of the phenomenon, died in prison thirty years before his actual death. I would recommend checking out the Snopes article on it because it's actually really fascinating.)**


	2. Well that was Strange

**(A/N: Try to guess which Avenger is going where! They're each going to a separate universe, but the universes aren't set in stone. If you guys give me a REALLY GOOD suggestion, I just might use it in place of one of ones that I have planned.)**

Far above the debacle on the torch, the mandala hung in the air, indifferent to the goings-on below it. With each Avenger's disappearance, it let out a veritable tsunami of pent up energy in all directions. As the first ring of energy radiated out over the bay, Natasha's despaired shout chased it towards the distant city lights. The magic soon left the inferior sound waves in the dust as it flitted over lower Manhattan, completely invisible to the nocturnal mortals far, far below it.

Well, invisible to all but one.

The wave swept over Greenwich Village, swooping so low that it ricocheted off of a magical barrier that hadn't been there a second before. The magic buzzed angrily off into the night, leaving behind the impossible obstruction and the house that it protected.

The house itself was slightly grander affair than its neighbors, but not entirely unusual. Unlike the plain brick apartment buildings surrounding it, this one was a proud four-story Victorian brownstone with a sloped roof and numerous windows. In daylight, they would allow light to stream through every corner of the house, but now they were all dark except for a few. A large decorated skylight ornamented the roof and, despite its lack of light, it seemed to stare out at the city like an ever-vigilant eye. As the magic retreated off into the night, a disgruntled huff of wood smoke puffed out of its chimney. A pigeon landed on a windowsill on the south side of the house only to have its landing strip immediately tilt to an alarming angle, dumping the bird with a loud squawk. The stone slowly reset itself, immovable once again.

Behind one of the few lit windows, a crackling fire illuminated an interior that was far stranger than anything the outside of the house would lead one to expect. Two plush armchairs, each about five feet tall and roomy enough for a full-sized man to curl up in them, were just about the most normal things in the room. They sat in front of a fire that flickered with what seemed like every color in the visible spectrum, from ruby, amber, and citrine to emerald, sapphire, and amethyst. Near the bottom of the fire, which leapt from a bed of clear crystals, tongues of obsidian black and diamond white repeatedly flickered into existence before subsiding.

The crackling fire's light flickered and ebbed across the navy blue walls, revealing an enormous collection of both magical and mundane objects. Grotesque masks with gaping sockets, tusks, and feathers hung next to tapestries and paintings depicting sweeping landscapes, horrifying monsters, and bustling cities. The pictures moved and one could see pointilated people bustling along acrylic streets, watercolor wings flapping against gradated scales, and silk trees swayed in front of cotton mountains. Here and there, swords, staffs, and wands were in display cases or mounted on the walls. The hardwood floor underneath the armchairs was covered by a white circular rug with a sky blue pentagram woven into its surface. Arcane runes were painted in silver around the walls on the trim and baseboard, sealing the room from any and all magical attacks. On the opposite side of the room from the fire, a large rectangular window looked out into the night. To either side of it stood floor-to-ceiling book cases that were crammed with every kind of book that you could ever imagine. In fact, book shelves dominated every spare bit of wall space that hadn't been claimed by some strange artifact or piece of art. Ancient leather spell books were stacked between modern literature and texts on medicine, architecture, history, and art. One book shelf was entirely dedicated to CDs and vinyl for the stereo and record player in the corner and if one was determined enough, they might find the stash of comic books behind the false panel in the bookcase under the painting of Pompeii mid-explosion.

The master of the house considered this room to be one of his favorite places to relax in the evening and he was doing just that as the magic passed overhead and bounced off of the house's wards. Any other human, and more than a few non-humans as well, would never have noticed this intrusion, but he was no ordinary human.

As soon as the magic came within a mile of the house, the man shot up from the armchair that he had been lounging in, his book on advanced magical healing left forgotten on the seat. His long strides quickly carried him to the window, where he stared out into the night to watch the magic pass overhead like a cloud of swallows.

His troubled gaze traced the disturbance's path to the far-off statue of liberty where the green mandala still twirled in the sky.

Doctor Steven Strange sighed heavily, resigned to the fact that his chance at a quiet evening had just been thoroughly destroyed.

Less than a minute later, Strange was soaring over the apartment building rooftops, the Cloak wrapping itself snuggly around him to keep out the midnight chill. He passed another four energy blasts on his way there, swooping underneath or soaring above each one as they blew past.

He had just flown over the Battery Park when he suddenly had to roll to the side, skimming the water as a sixth blast shot past him, this one faster and more powerful than any of the others. Moments after he avoided the near collision, Strange watched as the Mandala disintegrated, its petals breaking off and fading away like melting ice.

He willed the Cloak to go even faster and it complied, rocketing him towards the distant statue. His stomach twisted in dread and he hoped desperately that the spell's disintegration didn't mean that it had worked. He knew a transportation spell when he saw one and knew better than to hope that it was transporting anything harmless.

After about a minute of almost breaking the sound barrier, he finally reached the copper monument, the Cloak still wrapped tightly around him as he slowed down and hovered a ways above the monument. He looked down at the protective red fabric with a smirk that was somehow half exasperated and half fond.

"I do have magical ways of keeping myself warm, you know," he said.

The Cloak shifted on his shoulders, slightly self-conscious, before releasing its tight grip on the sorcerer. It billowed out behind him, but curled towards him at the edges, obviously ready to go straight jacket again at the slightest chill. He shook his head wryly and tapped the center of his chest twice. Along the seams of his clothes and around the cuffs of his sleeves, glowing yellow runes appeared. The runes instantly warmed him as he turned his attention back to the statue below him.

He immediately noticed the jet hovering next to the statue and started in alarm. The repulsors keeping it aloft were so silent that from a distance he hadn't noticed the black hull against the black sky. Now that he was almost directly above it, he could see the Avengers logo on its hull. His insides twisted themselves even farther, practically tying themselves into knots. There was no way that the Avengers being in the proximity of an _unidentified transport spell_ could be a good sign.

He concentrated, his hands flowing through the air to create a heat-seeking spell. If there were any heat signatures in the area, he would know. There were none.

Unlike the spell, he didn't even have to focus in order to sense the magical residue around the torch and the Quin jet. A spell of that proportion and difficultly always left large amounts of energy behind. Practically half of that residue was concentrated on the jet, which could mean only one of two things: either the Avengers were the creator of the spell or they were the target. He highly doubted the former theory and the latter was more than troubling.

He decided to investigate the jet first. He floated down, alighting on the still-open ramp. The voice that suddenly greeted him from the interior would have made him jump had he not dealt with the Avengers before.

"Dr. Strange, I must advise you to be careful," Friday warned, "There is still residual energy present from the altercation on the torch. You could be taken just like the Boss and the others."

"I doubt it, seeing as the spell has dissipated. So they're all gone?" Strange asked as he glanced around the jet.

"Yes," the AI confirmed, and Strange could hear something akin to worry in her voice. "One minute they were there and the next they were disappearing one by one. I can't reach their coms. I can't even find the Iron Man suit, which should be impossible. Unless they're out of reach of my satellites, which would be bad because that suit isn't cleared for space travel and-"

"Friday!" Strange interrupts, holding his hand up in a halting gesture. "I'm sure they're fine. Can you show me what happened?"

The AI paused, unconvinced, but went along with the request. A hologram appeared in front of Strange. The vantage point was from a camera set in the ceiling just behind the cockpit and it afforded a view of most of the inside of the Quin jet and even some of the statue outside. Agent Barton had taken a stance on the ramp, an arrow nocked on his bow string as the jet rose through the air. The torch came into view and Strange was shocked by who he saw.

There, very much alive and well, stood Loki Laufeyson, one of the greatest magic users in the nine realms.

Strange, along with everyone else in the superhero and magic community, had heard of the Trickster's death at the hands of Kurse. Obviously, the event had been greatly exaggerated.

He watched as Barton fired an arrow, but before it could even reach Loki, the archer had disappeared into thin air. His comrades disappeared in quick succession after that until only Captain Rodgers and Doctor Banner were left in the jet. Strange watched as the Captain leapt across the gap to the torch and engaged with the Trickster. They seemed to come to an impasse as one of Loki's spells missed, hitting Doctor Banner without their notice just before the transport spell swept him off to god-knows-where. Strange's eyebrows furrowed as Loki almost tumbled off the edge of the platform and Rodgers dragged him back from the edge. He was surprised that the Trickster hadn't collapsed long before then. After all, transporting five people and fighting a prolonged battle with a super soldier all while maintaining an impenetrable defensive spell was no small feat. He watched as the Captain leaned the god up against the left side of the torch and crouched near him, seeming to strike up a conversation with the exhausted Asgardian.

"Is there any way that we can hear what they're saying?" Strange asks Friday as he keeps his eyes rooted to the hologram.

"No," Friday replies and Strange can almost see the frustrated twist in her mouth. If she had a mouth, that is. "They were too far away for my sensors to pick up their voices."

Strange hummed in disappointment. On the hologram, Steve seemed to be frustrated with Loki. He gestured angrily at him, his brows furrowing as he seemed to lose his patience with the god. Loki only laughed softly before replying. Steve seemed to be stunned for a few seconds before a wry grin spread over his face.

By this point, Strange's eyebrows had risen to a level that could only say "intense surprise". Anyone who knew anything at all were well aware that Loki was no friend of the Avengers. In fact, they all pretty much hated him. And yet here was the best of them, a man that was freedom, justice, and loyalty incarnate, laughing along with one of the psychopaths that threatened those ideals on a routine basis. There was obviously more to this situation than met the eye.

Suddenly, the Trickster's eyes widened in alarm and he gripped Captain Rodgers' arm, his lips moving rapidly in his apparent panic. The super soldier nodded resolutely and the next moment he was gone. Loki fainted shortly after Rodgers disappeared, his head lolling against his chest.

"The spell broke apart shortly after that," Friday concluded as she shut off the hologram, "and you showed up exactly one hundred twenty seconds later. Loki is still out on the statue and I've notified S.H.I.E.L.D. of his location."

Strange nodded before turning and striding towards the open ramp. S.H.I.E.L.D. would be there any moment and he had to be sure that Loki was secure before then.

As soon as he floated within five feet of the Trickster, he knew that wasn't going to happen and that calling S.H.I.E.L.D. had been an enormous mistake. Trans-dimensional energy enclosed the god, a sure sign that he had traveled between alternate realities sometime in the past few days. It surrounded him in a thin wispy cloud, drifting in a lazy unseen orbit like early morning fog. This man obviously wasn't from this reality. Of course, that didn't mean that he wasn't evil, but Strange had the feeling that that was just the case.

Alternate dimensions are infinite. Every time a decision is made, an infinite number of realities are born, one for each possible choice. Even something as simple as flipping a coin produced an innumerable number of parallel dimensions due to where the coin lands, how it travels through the air, how high it goes, how many times it spins, what direction it bounces, and so on and so forth. Similarly, there are an infinite number of realities where Loki is evil. And an infinite number of ones where he is good, as well as innumerable possibilities where he didn't even exist or where he never became an Asgardian in the first place. This Loki could be good, bad, or neither, but Strange had worked with people all his life. He knew when someone had gotten a bullet wound from a gang battle or a mugging. He could tell if wounds were self-inflicted or caused by another party. He could immediately glean whether a man was evil or good, because the evil ones could kill or harm his staff at a moment's notice and it was a necessary skill. Year and years of working in a hospital had given him acute instincts for a person's intentions. His training as a sorcerer had served to heighten these senses. He inherently _knew_ that this version of Loki didn't mean any real harm.

One split second decision later, he spun back towards the jet, his hands shooting out to weave a spell that would wipe all evidence of him being there from Friday's memory. Turning back to the unconscious god, he carefully wove a complex transport spell around him. The spell placed Loki in a pocket dimension, which Strange could retrieve him from at any moment. The spell would be much better option for the Trickster's fragile state than physically moving him. It would also keep the god from being seen by any S.H.I.E.L.D. surveillance cameras on the way back to the Sanctum.

Without further ado, he was on his way.

 **(A/N: Ok, I was going to make this more than twice as long, but it's been two weeks and I've already written almost 3000 words, so I figured that I should post this soon. I hope you all enjoyed! I already have the next chapter outlined, so I should have it uploaded in a timely fashion. (Or not :) )**


	3. It's ALIVE

**(A/N: Ok, so I'm doing a hundred-day prompt challenge on my wattpad (Queen_of _Dragons) and AO3 (Avenging_Demigod) accounts! I'm not posting every day like I originally planned because I don't have the time, but I post a few times a week and with a wide variety of fandoms. Some of them are crossovers, some x-readers, and some of them will be sad or angsty, but I'm mostly making them fluffy, happy stories. I already have eight chapters posted, so go ahead and check it out if it seems like your type of thing!)**

When Loki came to, he was fully prepared for the empty feeling that always came from overextending himself. He was not, however, prepared for the stranger dozing at his bedside.

The man was almost as tall as Loki, with salt and pepper hair, prominent cheekbones, and a carefully sculpted goatee. His outfit was incredibly outlandish for a Midgardian, with a long blue tunic cinched at the waist with a complex leather belt and blue cords wrapped around his forearms. A high-collared red cape rested on his shoulders, its edges ornately embroidered with designs. His hands were loosely folded in his lap and Loki could see that they were crisscrossed with a multitude of raised pale scars.

' _That had to hurt_ ,' he thought, groaning softly as he raised himself into a sitting position against the headboard of the large, sinfully comfortable bed underneath him. He peered around at his new surroundings, intrigued by the odd room. The forest green walls were lined with shelf after shelf of leather-bound books of varying sizes and designs. Along the moulding near the ceiling, shifting silver runes encircled the room and Loki immediately recognized them as a high level protection spell. In fact, there was magic everywhere. He could feel it radiating off of every wall and object in the room, but it didn't overwhelm him like a heady perfume. Instead, it surrounded him, enveloping him in a peaceful presence like the scent of flowers or of freshly baked bread. He glanced at the man with renewed interest. He was obviously a sorcerer, and a powerful one at that. His eyes returned to curiously scanning the room and fell on a painting of a dragon that was… waving at him?

A broad grin spread over his face as the thin blue dragon resting in the shade of a massive oak waved a dainty paw in his direction, its eyes crinkling at the edges as it gave him a kind smile. Loki waved back and the creature winked at him before tucking its slender neck under its wing and promptly falling asleep. As his eyes continued to devour the room, he saw that there were more paintings tucked between the bookshelves and that each one was alive with movement. Even the seemingly still landscape above his bed had delicately painted deer bounding across its distant fields. All of this was illuminated by a window across the room, which looked out on a dense pine forest alive with new green growth. This didn't make much sense, seeing as the last time he checked they were in the middle of winter. Either he was halfway around the world right now or he had been asleep for much longer than he had originally thought.

But no, once Loki concentrated on it, he could feel the faint magical energy radiating off of the portal. He immediately recognized the spell for what it was. Basically, the window was actually a small wormhole, similar to the Bifrost. The scene on the other side of the glass could well be halfway around the world or even on the other side of the galaxy for all he knew. He was just about to push back the covers in order to investigate the room further when a deep voice makes him start in alarm.

"You're still weak."

Loki's eyes snapped the man in the chair to see him wide awake. The man's strange multi-colored eyes seemed to peer into his very soul. Loki stiffened under the scrutiny and stared right back. Suddenly, the man's features softened as his mouth curved into a small smile.

"Loki Laufeyson, you-"

"Odinson," Loki corrected, and the stranger's smile widens.

"Loki Odinson," he amended with a nod, seeming almost relieved, "you drained every bit of magic that you had performing those spells. As a result, you're in no condition to be up and about. Frankly, I'm surprised you even survived."

Loki's eyebrows drew together as her remembered the scene on the Midgardian monument. His frown deepened even further as he realized that he would have to contact S.H.I.E.L.D. and tell them what happened. The fools wouldn't be able to piece it together otherwise. But shouldn't S.H.I.E.L.D. have sent reinforcements when the Avengers went offline anyways? And if that was the case, why was he here instead of a cell?

"Who are you?" he asked, his head tilting slightly to the side, "And where exactly am I?" He gestured around the room and the man's eyes followed it, sweeping across the room with a bemused expression, his gaze lingering on the art and the portal. He gave a tiny nod and turned back to Loki.

"I'll tell you everything, but let's get some food in you first. You must be hungry."

Loki's stomach let out a loud growl and he grinned sheepishly at the man, who smirked back and left the room. When he returned, he was holding a bowl of steaming soup and a spoon, both of which he handed to the god. Loki dug in immediately, savoring the Midgardian delicacy, which he faintly remember being called "chicken noodle soup", as his host sat back down in his chair and waited for him to finish. When he did, he took back the bowl and slipped a strange ring onto the pointer and middle fingers of his left hand. Loki watched in curiosity as he opened a small portal and dropped the dishes through, right into a kitchen sink. He leaned back in his seat, steepled his hands under his chin as the portal closed, and gave Loki his undivided attention.

"Now, you wanted to know who I am. My name's Doctor Steven Strange. You can call me Steven, if you'd like. Or Dr. Strange. I really don't care which. I trained under the Ancient One as a member of the Masters of the Mystic Arts. We protect Midgard from mystic threats. I found you on the torch when I went to investigate the enormous light show that you put in plain view for the entire city to see," he smirked slightly and gave Loki an admonishing look, "I brought you back here to the Sanctum Sanctorum, which S.H.E.I.L.D. wouldn't be able to find even if they knew where to look. They don't know that I was the one that took you. You'll be safe here until we can return you to your own reality."

Loki looked at the man both with curiosity and hope. "So you know that I'm not of this world? And you have the ability to return me to mine?"

Dr. Strange nodded in confirmation. "You were surrounded by trans-dimensional energy when I found you. It would take an idiot not to realize that you weren't the Loki that usually terrorizes us. And yes, I know a spell that can send you home. We'll have to wait until you're strong enough, but it'll work."

Loki nodded, grateful for this man's efforts to keep him safe. He couldn't remember the last time a stranger had been so kind to him. "Thank you. When this is all over, you will have to tell me how I can repay you for your hospitality, but I cannot stay here. S.H.I.E.L.D. must know what transpired tonight and I am the only one that can give them an accurate account."

"Well, you can't just walk into S.H.E.I.L.D. headquarters and ask to see Fury," Steven said, "They'd lock you up before you could get a word in edgewise. I could record a hologram of you explaining the situation. Better yet, I could set up a spell so that you could talk face-to-face like a video chat."

Loki sighed, a slight frown twisting his features as he stared out at the pine forest. "I must speak to him in person. With the technology that Asgard possesses and the innovations that Midgard has begun to develop, one can easily disguise oneself as another. He must know that what I say is the truth and only by meeting him in person can I convince him of that." He turned to Strange, an apologetic half-smile stretching the one side of his mouth, "Could I trouble you to transport me there? I don't believe that I am strong enough to make it on my own."

Steven waved his hand in a dismissing gesture before Loki even finished his sentence. "Of course you aren't strong enough. You need to recover for _at least_ a month before you can make a trip like that."

"In that case, what would you suggest?" Loki asked, schooling his features to hide his irritated frown.

Steven steepled his fingers under his chin and hummed in though. His eyes swept over the room and Loki watched as he studied the room as if it was still new to him. His eyes lingered on the window for a few moments before he suddenly nodded.

"We'll bring them to us," he replied decisively as he folded his hands in his lap, "I'll contact Fury and tell him to come here if he wants to know where the Avengers are. The sanctum likes you, so I'm sure that she'll protect you from harm."

Loki's eyes widened in wonder. "You mean to tell me that this house lives? I have created more than my share of living objects, but to imbue an entire house with magic? Such a feat would require an unbelievably powerful enchanter. Nay, several!"

Dr. Strange simply smirked in reply.

Loki looked around him with a new appreciation. He guessed that explained the abundance of magic that he felt. He felt the energy moving around him and if he concentrated carefully, he could feel it thrumming in a way that was reminiscent of a lion's purr. The house seemed to appreciate his last comment.

Steven must have noticed the vibrations as well because he chuckled in amusement. "She likes you," he observed, waving his hand in a sweeping motion at the room around them, "She never moves the portals and before you woke up, these walls were a cream color and only decorated with some art and a desk over in that corner. She's collected some of the friendliest paintings in the house for you, so she obviously wants you to feel welcome. She never did that for me when I moved in," he laughed.

Without further ado, he pushed himself up from his armchair and strode over to the door. "Get some rest," he advised, turning back to look at Loki, "I'm going to contact Fury. I'll have him come in several hours, which should give you plenty of time for a power nap."

Loki nodded his thanks and the sorcerer swept out of the room, closing the door softly behind him. He settled himself of the bed and pulled the covers up to his chin, content to take the Doctor's advice. Despite being in a stranger's home, he felt protected.

"Thank you," he said to the ceiling, and the magic around him thrummed gently, lulling him to sleep with the house's lullaby.


	4. Magical Mumbo-Jumbo Bullshit

**(A/N: Sorry for the obscenely long wait, guys. :( I know I'm usually bad with wait times, but this was just ridiculous. I've been busy writing a short story in order to get into the creative writing program at the university that I'm going to be attending in the fall. Not only that, but I had to write** _ **another**_ **short story for my English class, so I've been positively swamped. I think I might post those short stories on my Wattpad account (Queen_of_Dragons) in a few days.**

 **Also, this chapter is a bit shorter than my others because I wanted to get you guys an update as fast as midgardianly possible.**

 **Finally, just so everyone is aware,** _ **yes**_ **, I know that the Sanctum doesn't look like this on the inside, but I wanted to do some real world building for once and I loved the idea of a living house. :) Also, I've basically been channeling Samuel L. Jackson while writing Fury, so he might be a bit sassier than he is canonically. I hope you all enjoy!)**

As Fury took his sixth lap around the block and proved to himself yet again that there was no 177A Bleecker Street, he felt like shooting that self-centered surgeon-sorcerer in the face.

"Take another lap," he told the agent in the driver's seat next to him, "The bastard's probably cloaking it with some sort of magical mumbo-jumbo bullshit."

The agent looked doubtful, but kept driving all the same. As soon as Fury had gotten the call from Strange, he ordered some of his most trusted and loyal agents that were available to come with him to the meeting place.

Fury had been well aware that he was several hours early, but he needed answers and he needed them soon. His six most experience Avengers were MIA and when Strange said that he had someone that could explain what had happened… Well, he figured that Strange would just have to deal with him being early. How was he supposed to know that the man could make his entire damn building vanish?

The car turned the corner a seventh time and the sight in front of them made Fury swear, not because the house still wasn't there, but because it was. Dr. Strange stood in front of its open doorway, his arms crossed over his chest with a smirk that could rival Stark's.

"Do you want me to circle around the block again, sir?" the agent asked.

Fury shook his head. "No use driving away and risk having him hide the damn thing again. Park the car there next to that tree over there. We have no idea who this third party is, so watch your step when we get inside."

The driver frowned, but parked the car in the space that Fury had pointed out. He turned to look at his director in confusion and the two agents in the back seat mirrored the movement.

"Sir, the house still isn't there," one of them pointed out.

Fury turned to give him a one-eyed evaluating stare. "Evans, I could have sworn I saw your perfect vision test pass across my desk just yesterday. What do you mean, 'the house isn't there?' Don't you see the big, fat frickin' Brownstone over there?"

He jabbed his finger out the window at the house and Strange gave him a little infuriating wave. The three agents followed the gesture, but they all shook their heads in bewilderment.

"Boss, I don't see anything different from the last lap around the block," the third agent replied, "Maybe he wants you to go in alone?" he suggested hesitantly. He'd known Fury long enough to know that the man wouldn't lie about something so strange, but still, disappearing houses seemed pretty fantastic.

Fury huffed as he looked back at the house that only he could see, muttering something along the lines of Strange being a bigger pain in his ass than some guy named Wilson. "Stay here. I'll call if I need backup."

None of the agents pointed out that they couldn't enter a house that they couldn't see.

Fury slid out of the car, slamming his door behind him as he made his way across the sidewalk and up the steps to where Strange was standing in his open doorway.

"Nice of you to keep me waiting," Fury growled, "You couldn't've let me in sooner?"

Strange shrugged, the smirk still fixed to his face, but Fury could see the unease underneath. The man was nervous and it set Fury on edge. "My guest needed rest," he said, brushing off Fury's indignation, "He's been through quite a few days."

He led Fury into the entrance hall and the door slammed of its own accord behind them. Fury whipped around to stare and he could have sworn he heard Strange mutter something along the lines of "be nice", but he couldn't be sure.

"Welcome to the Sanctum Sanctorum," Strange said over his shoulder, sweeping his arm around the foyer.

Fury's eyes followed the movement and was actually impressed by what he saw. A red and gold tasseled rug covered the middle of the floor and to their left and right, oak doors with intricate runes carved into their centers led to unknown rooms. In front of them, twin staircases led up to a landing with more doors and a long hallway. Another door, this one made of mahogany and completely covered in runes and symbols, stood in between the staircases with silver chains crisscrossed across it. Along the cream-colored walls, a hundred paintings, tapestries, weapons, and artifacts were mounted on display.

Fury's eyebrows rose in amazement as he watched a tapestry of two tree nymphs whisper to each other, they're woven gazes trained on Fury in curiosity. Fury's eyes traveled from one animate painting or tapestry to the next, his gaze sweeping over staffs, bows, carved masks, glowing crystals, and every kind of blade that you could ever imagine. The arched roof high above them was crisscrossed with oak beams and just below them, a golden circle of flames illuminated the entire hall.

"Sweet digs you got here," he commented, nodding approvingly, "A bit too hocus pocus for my taste, but I can respect a man who knows how to decorate."

Strange nodded his thanks, his shoulders tense as he led the way up the stairs to the second floor. They made their way down the thickly carpeted hallway and Fury examined the shifting runes on the cream walls and the stained oak doors that they passed as he attempted to get information out of the sorcerer striding ahead of him.

"Mind telling me who this new player is and how they know how the Avengers managed to disappear into thin air?"

"You'll find out soon enough," Strange responded, his tone too at-ease when his shoulders are still ever-so-slightly tensed.

Fury huffed as they turned down another hallway and _how_ the _hell_ were there so many damn corridors in this house?

Finally, they stopped outside a door identical to every other that they'd passed so far and Strange whipped around to fix Fury with a hard stare, one shaking hand clamped firmly over the doorknob.

"Before we go in, I want to make one thing _abundantly_ clear. If you harm my guest, you _will_ regret it."

He didn't give any reasons and made no other threats, but Fury couldn't help but remember rumors of transdimensional world-eating monsters and gems that can control time and he suddenly felt that this was not a man that you should offend.

Fury nodded and Strange resolutely turned the knob, pushing the door open to reveal a green-walled room with a veritable hoard of books on the shelves lining the walls. Fury entered right after Strange and in the blink of an eye, his gun was out of its holster and aimed unwaveringly at the man sitting on the bed on the other side of the room.

"Well this is awkward," Loki mused as he warily eyed the weapon pointed at his head.

Fury's mind reeled, his thoughts racing just shy of the speed of light. Thor had said that this bastard had been stabbed with his own sword by some sort of jacked up alien behemoth. How the hell was he there now?

"Want to explain why you have a mass murderer in your house, Strange?" he asked the sorcerer, his hands steady and his eyes hard. "And a dead one, at that."

Strange glared at him, opening his mouth in preparation to reprimand him, but the Pain in Fury's Ass beat him to it.

"Oh, please lay down your weapon, director," Loki drawled as he closed his book and set it next to him on the sheets. "I might as well… How do you Midgardian's say it? I might as well cut right to the chase." He crossed his legs, turning to face Fury. "I am not planning an attack on your world, nor have I ever before. I am of an alternate dimension, where your Avengers and I are actually friendly acquaintances. Friends, even. Also, your Loki far from deceased, as I encountered him halfway around the world just last week."

Out of all the things that Fury's mind could have latched onto, it was the second word that the trickster had said. Of the little that Fury had learned about the god, he knew that Loki of Asgard did not say _please_.

Fury complied with Not-Loki's request and slowly lowered his gun. Just because he didn't trust anyone didn't mean that wasn't willing to compromise. He kept his gun un-holstered and he could see Strange's disapproving look at his side, but the doctor seemed to decide to allow it.

"Now would be a really good time to explain why my best Avengers are missing," Fury growled and Loki's expression turned sheepish, "Along with just what you mean by being from an alternate dimension," he added, trying to wrap his mind around that fact. Other worlds were one thing, but alternate dimensions were a whole other ball game. He briefly considered the idea that the god of lies might be lying, but he quickly dismissed it. As annoying as Strange might be, he trusted him and his judgment.

"That would be my fault, actually," Loki answered in something akin to embarrassment.

The director breathed deeply, squashing the urge to shoot the trickster in the foot.

"Explain. Now."

 **(A/N: Ok, so next chapter will be Loki's tale of his time in Midgard, then there'll be one or two more chapters after that and then we'll be getting into the fun part! :D I think I'll be starting with Clint's story first and then moving on from there. I'll reveal where each Avenger went in the final chapter of the prologue, so stay tuned!**

 **P.S. There's been some confusion on this, so I just wanted to clarify that the Avengers are each going to separate universes. So for example, while Tony might be going to the Inheritance Cycle, Nat will be going to Dr. Who. That's obviously not where they're going, but you get the idea.)**


	5. An Interdimentional One Ring?

**(A/N: Hey, look at that! :D I managed to avoid a month-long hiatus this time! I was actually going to make this way longer, but I reached a good place to stop, so I decided to give you guys an update. There'll be two more chapters after this and then we're on to Clint's story. :) I already have the next chapter completely outlined and I have a few days off of school for this massive snowstorm that we're having right now, so that should be up soon. I hope you all enjoy!)**

"Explain. Now," Fury growled, his grip still tight on the handgun at his side.

Loki sighed and glanced at Steven, who was staring at Fury in obvious irritation. Loki had heard them out in the hallway and the sorcerer didn't seem to be very happy about the weapon being pointed at his guest.

"It is a lengthy tale," he said, turning back to Fury, "but you deserve to know why and how this whole situation came about. I would suggest seating yourself." He waved towards the large armchair behind Steven and the small, uncomfortable plastic chair behind Fury and he saw the director frown. The man was most likely wondering how the chairs had appeared in the middle of their conversation.

Steven seated himself in his plush seat and examined the other chair with a smirk. He turned his gaze towards the ceiling with a slightly exasperated smile, his eyes twinkling with fondness.

"Come now, that's no way to treat our guest," he chided and Fury's eyebrows knitted in confusion. No doubt, he probably felt that the other man is going insane. "Give him a proper seat, please."

What Fury couldn't feel was the magic of the house as it twisted, swirling and rumbling like far-off thunder. Loki chuckled as the houses' grumbling brought memories of Tony calling his staff to clean up one of Clint's pranks or Steve complaining about the lack of good music nowadays. With a jolt, he realized that the people that he was working to save were probably completely different from the friends that he had come to know and care for. For all he knew, this universe's Natasha could be unrepentant about the people she had killed or their Bruce could be a crass, angry man. For all he knew, Steve and Bucky weren't, in fact, dating and Pietro had never been healed in time to save his life.

Loki gave a small huff. The personalities of this universe's heroes were not a concern. They were needed and that's all that mattered.

Steven gave the ceiling another pointed look and the house let out a lower roll of thunder before it curtly twisted its magic. The air around the plastic monstrosity distorted and it smoothly morphed, growing bigger and plush as its white plastic thickened and red spread through it like roses blooming in the snow. Within the space of a second, a more threadbare version of Steven's armchair was sitting where the plastic chair had once stood.

Fury's eyebrow shot into his hairline as he slowly holstered his gun, leaving it unsecured as he prodded the arm of the chair. His other eyebrow joined the first as he felt what had once been plastic give way under his fingers.

"Please sit down, director," Steven said, gesturing to the chair, "It won't bite. Probably."

Fury shot him a venomous glare and sat, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands in front of him. He intertwined his fingers tightly, as if the cage that they made could contain his anger towards the man that had (temporarily) killed his second in command and turned one of his best agents against him and his allies. Or at least, the man who _looked_ like the one who had done all that.

Fury stared at the trickster across from him as the god organized his thoughts, his eyes pensive as they gazed through the impossible window at one end of the room. Fury's own thoughts swirled as he pondered the other man's claims of interdimensional travel and impossible friendships. He had seen a lot of strange things, from men that grew to three times their size and turned green when angry, to women manipulating red energy with the power of their mind, to androids and 99-year-old young men and everything in between. He'd seen robot insurgencies in Novi Grad and alien invasions in New York. After all of that, alternate dimensions weren't such a hard thing to wrap his mind around, and yet it all still seemed so fantastic.

It was the eyes that convinced him.

The last time Fury had been this close to Loki, his eyes had been molten madness, sharp with anger, pride, and cruelty. Now, they were verdant glass, alive with worry and curiosity, which danced around each other like sunlight and shadows.

Those same eyes turned towards Fury and the Trickster began to speak.

Loki knew that he was finally getting somewhere when things started to explode.

"What the shit, Reindeer Games?!" Tony coughed as he appeared in the doorway to Loki's section of the labs in Avengers Tower, waving away the green smoke that permeated every corner of the room. "That has to be the fifth time this month! I mean, I'm as much of a pyromaniac as the next guy, but I'd really like my tower to stay in one piece."

Loki ignored him as he smoothed his hands over his singed and torn clothing, bringing it back to its previous quality. He used one hand to brush the soot out of his hair while flicking the other to summon the smoke into a large sphere in front of him, directly over the blast mark on the large bronze anvil at his feet.

The room was full of similarly strange objects, from steaming cauldrons tucked into corners to floating glass spheres and crystals that glowed with colorful energy along the shelves that lined the room. At one end of the room, a large furnace stood against the wall that was the edge of the tower and roared with flames that could give off both intense cold and blistering heat.

Tony sauntered farther into the room as Loki twisted his fingers, manipulating the smoke until it coalesced into a perfect model of the device that had been sitting in front of him before it combusted. Loki crossed, his arms, humming as he watched the rune-carved circle of metal, which was about the size of a dinner plate, buckle and fragment, vaporizing in slow motion from the intricately carved mandala in its center outwards.

"What's that?" Tony asked in his usual child-like fascination as he watched the last of the illusion vaporize into smoke once again.

"A viewing device," Loki explained patiently as he grabbed another ingot of dwarven silver with a set of tongs and dropped it into the crucible that was nestled in the coals. "Or at least it will be. It will, once I have perfected it, allow me to draw back the curtains that separate the universes and peer into alternate dimensions. The principle is based off of another, much more dangerous spell," he explained. "By giving it the spell a corporal anchor, I will be able to see without being seen myself."

"So an interdimensional One Ring," Tony summed up as Loki prepared his work space for another attempt. "Nice!"

"I should probably point out that I won't be able to interact with the other dimension, only observe, and that while I am impervious to combustion at the moment due to my wards, _you_ are not." Loki made a shooing gesture towards the door, his lips quirking upwards in a small grin. "Go! Back to the Shadows!"

Tony rolled his eyes, but his grin belied his aggravation as he held his hands up in surrender and backed away towards the door. "Alright, Gandalf the Green, I'm going! No need to get your leather panties in a twist."

He disappeared down the hallway towards his own section of the labs and Loki shook his head wryly. How Pepper had managed to keep her sanity for so long, he would never know.

He turned back to his work and threw himself into it. He never failed to get lost in his work whenever he experimented. Hours flew by underneath his tools as he poured, hammered, cooled, pounded again, cleaned, etched, and imbued the shining metal, layering spell after spell into it's very molecules.

The sun was almost set, the darkening sky alive with petal-bright colors, when Loki finished carving the final rune along the border of the device. Loki sighed in accomplishment and set aside his tools, dusting his hands off as he examined his work. He couldn't find a single flaw in any of his carvings and the tablet's magic thrummed deeply and evenly with no fluctuations to mar its rhythm.

His heart thrummed in his chest in anticipation as his slender fingers fished a yellowed scrap of parchment out of his pocket. Its creases were well-worn and it unfolded easily to reveal neatly printed words in a language that practically no one spoke anymore.

"Lacerandum, claustra! Liberum conspectu. Apertus!" he intoned, his mouth shaping the words careful, cradling them on his tongue.

The runes began to glow blue.

His world became white.

His vision cut to black.

 **(A/N: I've been using a lot of colors in this story and I have no idea why. *shrugs* By the way, the colors of each characters aura when they're swept away hints at where they're going. ;) See if you can figure them out.)**


	6. Who are you and why do you have my face?

**(A/N: Here's the final chapter! I hope you all enjoy! :D)**

It wasn't the stench of rotten garbage that finally made Loki come to. Nor was it the rough concrete against his back, the rumbling of cars on the street outside of the alley that he found himself in, or the buzzing lightbulb on the wall that he was propped against.

If Loki had to guess, it was probably the hand gripping his shoulder and the knife pressed to his throat that had woken him up.

His first instinct was to curse loudly and colorfully, but he settled for raising his hands in a non-threatening gesture, keeping his chin against his chest so that all he could see were the black boots and pants that his attacker was wearing. Loki theorized that his spell had probably blown up again and ejected him from the tower. It was just his luck that some lowlife happen upon him while he was knocked out and decide to mug him.

' _Oh gods_ ,' he thought ruefully, ' _Tony's never going to let me forget this._ '

Then he raised his head to look at his assaulter and realized how truly and thoroughly he had fucked up.

Staring down at him was his own face, and yet it was completely alien. The eyes were too hard, almost brittle, and the cheeks were hollower. The hair was longer, reaching almost to the other man's shoulders, while he had decided to cut his short after several years of living at Avengers Tower. The other man was also in full Asgardian armor, identical to the kind that he would wear to battles, while Loki himself was still in the battered black jeans and a green tank top that he would always wear while experimenting.

The spell had obviously backfired horribly, sending Loki into an alternate dimension instead of allowing him to remotely view it. He could sense Seidr rolling off of his clone in waves and while the magic seemed crueler and sharper than his own, he could still sense an underlying curiosity and mischievousness that was all too familiar.

"What are you?" the other demanded, and even his voice was different from Loki's own. It was deeper and more gravely, like a roughly hewn obsidian blade.

"Well, I would think that would have been obvious," Loki replied, "if one were to go by the fact that I look exactly like you and I reek of interdimensional energy. I am you."

The other Loki regarded him with a contempt-filled sneer. "Yes, that's entirely possible, but you could just as easily be a Skrull, Chitauri, Dire Wraith, mutant, or any other manner of shapeshifter, although why any shapeshifter would chose to change my appearance in such a way is beyond me. What do you want here? This world is to be mine and I will not condone outsiders trampling on my claim."

Loki frowned. Without thinking, he reached for his magical stores. Every sorcerer's magic is a reflection of themselves and therefore entirely unique. Even a small spark would convince his attacker that he wasn't here to –

Where was his Seidr?

Loki stiffened in alarm and checked again. The well within him that was usually brimming with energy was now almost completely drained. By channeling the spell through an object that was meant to inhibit some of its effects and change its purpose, he must have increased the energy level needed to activate the spell, like trying to force a river through a drainage pipe. Therefore, the spell, which should have taken only about a tenth of his immense magical stores, had taken nearly all of them.

Loki let out a frustrated sigh. "I was experimenting with an interdimensional transport spell called the Mandala Effect. It seems that my modifications increased the activation energy of the spell, draining me dry. Believe me, I'm not here to trample on your," he paused, " _claim_."

The other Loki raised an eyebrow. "That _was_ an incredibly powerful spell. I could sense its power from the other side of Midgard. But any-"

"Wait," Fury interrupted. "If Loki could sense this spell from the other side of the planet, then why didn't you know about this sooner, Strange?" he asked, gesturing to the sorcerer in irritation.

Steven scowled at him before glancing to Loki. "When did you arrive here, again?"

"I arrive just under a week ago," the god replied, his head tilted in curiosity.

"Well, there's your answer," Steven said, gesturing towards the god. "I was off-world helping an intergalactic police force called the Nova Corps with a group of rampaging criminals/part-time heroes. Apparently they'd busted their talking raccoon out of prison again."

"I'm sorry, you helped who with the what now?" Fury demanded. Loki could clearly see the veins in his temples as they popped out in shock.

"Can we please get back to the current issue?" Loki asked curtly, schooling his voice and expression into those of irritation and resisting the urge to smirk at the director's shock.

Steven gave him a nod, his eyes twinkling in amusement, and Loki continued.

"But any sorcerer could have sent you here. Why are you here?" He pressed the knife closer to Loki's skin, forcing the exhausted god to shrink closer to the wall. "Quickly! I know not if Thor and his band of misfits have the ability to track my magic. I do not have the time to wait."

Loki frowned. "Why would you care if the Avengers found you?"

The other Loki scowled. "I attacked their world with an intent to rule it and subvert their species. Why would I want them to find me?"

And now it all clicked. This man had endured far worse than he. He could hear bitterness in his voice, the same bitterness that had plagued Loki when he had attacked Jotunheim in his own universe, when he had fought under Thanos' thumb, but this man's was amplified, echoing back on itself over and over again through time and space. If he wasn't allied with the Avengers, then they had never discovered Thanos' control. They had never broken it.

Or this version of himself was just inherently tyrannical, but Loki decided to take a chance.

"Loki Odinson," the hand tightened on the knife, drawing a drop of blood, "you were born of Laufey, king of the frost giants, who abandoned you and left you to die. Odin found you and brought you in. Your brother is Thor, although you like to think that he is not. Your mother is Frigga, who taught you magic. When you were a few hundred years old, she even taught you how to fight, how to use your speed and slight build to our advantage. When you were one thousand forty six years old, you attempted to eradicate the Jotuns from the universe, believing that that would solve your problems."

Loki poured as much sincerity into his voice as he could and as he talked, more and more bitterness joined it. He wasn't just talking to another person. He was speaking to his past, which he could never get back and could never fix. He knew that he would live with that regret for the rest of his life.

"You believed that genocide would make Father respect you when he already did. You thought that Thor would finally see you as an equal, though he always had, and that the other Asgardians would finally see you as a prince. It's true, the nobles despised you, but if you had only bothered to remember the poor, the servants and fruit sellers, the farmers and stablemen, you would have remembered the smiles whenever you greeted them and the loyalty and respect that they had shown you. If you had only remembered to _think_ , you would have remembered that you weren't alone. Just a year later, Thanos took control of you. You were tortured," he growled, throwing the words like knives. " _Subverted_." The other version of him just stared, his eyes just slightly wider than what could have been considered impassive. "And I'm guessing that none of them, not the Avengers, not even your own brother, could tell that you were doing anything less than what you wanted when you attacked Midgard." He glowered at his look-alike. "Now tell me, am I anything less than what I claim to be." Loki dug his fingernails into the concrete under him, waiting for the other man's verdict.

Suddenly the knife was gone from his neck and the Other-Loki had stood up, looking down at him in what seemed to be curiosity, his eyebrow quirked and his head tilted quizzically to the right. At his side, his hand gripped the knife so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.

"You do seem to be me," he admitted, nodding ever so slightly, "Although that does not mean that you are not here to overtake this world." He paused, eyeing Loki pensively. Other-Loki gave another more decisive nod and held out his hand. Loki cautiously took it, climbing unsteadily to his feet as he eyed the other man. "Allow me to take you somewhere safe to heal for your return trip."

The words "where I can keep an eye on you" were not said, but they were heard plain as day.

The hapless traveler nodded and with a wave of the other Loki's hand, they were gone.

Over the next few days, Loki stayed at Other-Loki's moss-roofed cabin in a clearing deep in an enormous pine and birch forest in the Femundsmarka Nasjonalpark. The park, which consisted of over two hundred square miles of forest, marshes, and lakes, was located in TrØndelag, Norway near the Swedish boarder. The forest was beautiful, with rolling hills that stretched off into forever and ambling rivers that were as clear as the sky above them. The fauna were plentiful and curious of the new god that was identical to the one that they had become so accustomed to. Loki would often sit outside on the veranda, soaking in the sun and watching as falcons flew through the circular patch of sky above him and caribou skirted the clearing, snorting a greeting to Other-Loki as he checked on the raised bed full of vegetables that sat tucked against the cabin wall.

The cabin itself was large for a hunter's lodge, with two bedrooms, a kitchen, and a large main sitting room. The sitting room took up the middle third of the cabin and was used as a work space for Other-Loki's experimentation. A circular table stood in the middle of the room with boxes of crystals and different vials of powders and herbs arranged on a leather briefcase in its center. Various instruments and tools were arranged around the perimeter and were always clean and polished to look brand new. On the floor around the table were several cauldrons that always had something bubbling away in them. In the corner next to the door stood a brass telescope for when nights were clear. Across from the entrance stood two leather armchairs in front of a roaring fireplace constructed from large polished stones that had been collected from a nearby river. From the beams that spanned the sloped ceiling hung a simple iron chandelier that had been fashioned to look like a wagon wheel.

On the right side of the cabin was the kitchen. A floor-to-ceiling wall separated the rooms but a wide-open archway that stretched nearly from one wall to another allowed easy access to the room. A wide counter ran along the walls with racks of spices and bowls of fruit. Over the two shorter lengths of counter on the sides, cabinets were filled with plates and cups that were hardly ever used. Across from the entrance, two windows allowed plenty of light to stream into the space. Underneath them was a large sink, drying rack, and an old wood stove that Other-Loki preferred to light with Seidr instead of actual tinder. In the middle of the room stood a circular wooded table with two wooden chairs. Although the ceiling in this room was lower than in the sitting room, there was still plenty of headspace to hang bundles of herbs from the rafters to dry, which is exactly what Other-Loki did.

The remaining space on the left side of the cabin was divided into two rooms. One was Other-Loki's quarters, which Loki was absolutely forbidden from entering, and the other was Loki's. The room was very minimalistic, with only a queen-sized bed, a nightstand, and a window to occupy the space. The night that Loki had arrived, the room had been lined with bookcase after bookcase of leather-bound tomes, but Other-Loki had stored them all away in a pocket dimension to make room for his guest.

That first night, Loki had been so exhausted that he had barely been able to take in all of these details. Other-Loki had sat him down at the table in the kitchen and immediately began to bustle along the counters, boiling water and mixing different powders and herbs.

"So," he said, reaching up to pluck a handful of leaves from one of the drying bundles, "you said that you had been picking apart the Mandala Effect?"

"Yes." Loki sighed and leaned his forearms on the table. "I was attempting to run the spell through a corporeal anchor in order to limit the results and simply allow me to view other realities rather than visit them. My first three attempts melted, the fourth exploded, and the fifth sent me here."

Other-Loki turned sharply toward his clone. "You attempted to bastardize the spell _five times_?" He shook his head in amazement, the mortar and pestle in his hands momentarily forgotten. "The Mandala Effect is uncooperative and unstable even for the most competent wielders of magic. You're lucky that you didn't die the moment you attempted to change its intent."

Loki said nothing. Other-Loki shook his head and turned back towards the counter. Loki sat in silence and watched his hands as they poured the powders and crushed herbs into a small cheesecloth bag and tied it before setting it in a mug and pouring hot water over it. Other-Loki carried the steaming mug of tea over to the table and set it down in front of Loki.

"This will help you to regain your strength."

Loki wrapped his slender fingers around the mug and brought it gratefully to his lips, wincing slightly as he burned his tongue.

"Thank you," he said, nodding to the other, who had taken the seat across from him.

Other-Loki nodded curtly back, lounging in his rickety wooden chair as if it were a throne.

They sat for nearly a minute, neither of them saying anything to the other. Finally, Other-Loki shifted in his chair, drawing in an unsure breath. Loki looked up expectantly.

"Why are you wearing that?" Other-Loki asked, eyeing Loki's black jeans and green tank top.

Loki blinked, leaned his elbows on the table, opened his mouth to reply, closed it, and blinked again. That certainly wasn't what he had expected. He chuckled, tilting their head inquisitively.

"It's comfortable," he answered with a shrug.

Other-Loki seemed to accept that. His eyes traveled up to Loki's hair. "Why has your hair been shorn short?" he asked with a small frown. "Is short hair not a sign of servitude in your reality?"

Loki nodded. "It is." He shrugged again. "But it does not have to be. It certainly is not among the Midgardians. Besides, it is far easier to maintain at its present length."

"You know of Midgardian customs," Other-Loki observed. "So you have spent time among them?"

Loki hummed, leaning back in his seat. "And you have not." Loki didn't need to ask whether or not that was true. The seclusion was obvious enough. "Why?"

"You know why," Other-Loki growled, his right hand gripping the armrest so hard that it creaked.

Loki waved his hand impatiently. "Yes, you attacked them and attempted to subvert them. But why not learn about them? With your level of skill in enchantments, you could easily walk among them without a single second glance. I know that I used to do it all the time before the Avengers took me in."

Other-Loki stared at him in surprise.

"Yes, the Avengers," Loki reiterated with a smirk. "Tony was the one who figured it out. He had been looking over security footage from what they call the Battle of New York when he noticed by pure chance that my eyes had changed color after Dr. Banner's alter-ego took issue with me. They brought the information to Thor and after father was convinced, they let me go and cleared me of all charges in both Midgard and Asgard."

Other-Loki looked stunned. "They let you go because your _eyes_ changed color?" he asked in amazement. "They did not consider the possibility that it might be a trick?"

"Oh they did," Loki assured him with a small huffed laugh. "They interrogated many people and spent weeks debating before they brought the possibility to Thor. It took another month of investigating before father was completely sure. I would have been released far sooner if his advisors had not needed so much convincing."

Other-Loki frowned in confusion. He sat up in his chair, his shoulders slightly hunched. "But… Are they not aware of…"

"Ragnarok?" Loki eyed his counterpart wearily as Other-Loki nodded. "They know," he assured him. "It took nearly a year of convincing from Thor before I finally told them. It's hard to tell your closest and only friends that you are destined to bring about the end of the entire universe." He chuckled fondly. "But do you want to know what they said to me?"

Other-Loki slowly nodded.

"So what?" Loki let out a laugh. "Is that not amazing? They meet Armageddon itself and said, 'Yes, you're fated to destroy us, but you do not have to.'"

Other-Loki shook his head. "I don't understand." He frowned. "The Norns themselves foretold that I-"

"Yes, they were well aware of that fact," Loki conceded with a nod. "And you probably will in infinite other universes, but in this one, you have a choice." Other-Loki looked like he was about to object, so Loki continued. "You were fated to die in those ruins, were you not? And look where you are now." He swept his hand around the clean, spacious cabin. "Fate has only as much power as we are willing to give it."

Other-Loki stared off into space for a long time, his fingers relaxing from the armrest as he leaned back in his rickety chair. His emerald eyes seemed to stare far off into the distance.

After several minutes of silence, in which Loki finished his tea, Other-Loki abruptly stood, clearing away the dishes.

"It will be a couple of days before you have regained your strength," he said as he returned several bottles of powder to their cabinet. "Once you are well rested, I will tell you how you might be able to return home."

Loki frowned. "Might?"

Other-Loki paused in the act of washing out a mug. "Yes," he said as he set it on the drying rack next to the sink. "Of the few people who I know to have used that spell, very few have returned. Of the ones who did, almost all of them described universes completely different from those that they had been aiming for." He wiped his hands off on a towel before turning to lean against the counter and face Loki. "Every single one of them dropped into unfamiliar surroundings, completed some sort of task or quest, and were immediately transported home less than a day after they left, even if they had actually been gone for months. The Mandala Effect is an ancient magic. No one knows who or what invented it, but the spell is too intricate and vast for even you and me to understand it. It quite literally has a complete mind of its own and if it decides that your efforts would be better served somewhere else, then it will not hesitate to drop you in whichever universe it pleases. And if you have any intentions that it deems harmful…" He shrugged. "Well, I already told you about the missing ones, did I not?"

Other-Loki bid Loki goodnight, leaving him in the empty kitchen to contemplate his mortality.

Several days and many cups of tea later, Other-Loki approached his alternate self.

"How are you faring?" he asked as he approached Loki and the large female caribou that he had been feeding carrots to.

Loki smiled as he rubbed the female's nose. "My energy levels have risen considerably in the past few days. I expect that I will have regained the strength to attempt the spell by tomorrow afternoon."

Other-Loki nodded in satisfaction as he reached out to brush his hand down the beast's flank. "Good. Come." He turned back towards the cabin, beckoning for Loki to follow him. "We have many preparations to make before you attempt the return trip."

The rest of that day was spent memorizing the spell's incantation and the visualizations that would go with it. Certain spells can be achieved with a single word or gesture, but other require undivided attention and intense concentration in order to bring them to fruition. Unfortunately, the Mandala Effect was such a spell.

By the time they were finished, the sun had been gone for hours. Loki blinked blearily out at the blanket of stars that had draped itself over the wilderness. Very suddenly, Loki craved his bed in the tower, his room, his friends. Worry creased his forehead. While fate did only have as much power as you were willing to give her, that didn't mean that she was easy to overcome. She would give you what you wanted eventually, if you worked hard enough for her liking, but you would have to endure many things before she deigned to grant your desires. Loki knew that he would have a long road ahead of him.

"We prepared the next day as well. At about noon, we feasted together in farewell before he teleported us to your Statue of Liberty." Loki continued, talking just as much with his hands as he was with his words. "That statue is one of many epicenters of energy that connect closely related realities. Every reality has thousands that can be found in places of great emotional importance. The Avengers tower is one, as well as other monuments such as the memorial for your 9/11 terror attack. The combined energy of your opinions and feelings creates an anchor that can be used to slide into neighboring dimensions. Of course, even with that as my guide, it still took me several hours to start the spell."

He went on to explain the scene on the torch and the disappearance of Earth's Might Heroes.

"It was not too long after that that I awoke here." He gestured around the room. "Steven has been very hospitable," he said, nodding to the doctor, who smiled and nodded back.

Fury sighed heavily, leaning forward in his chair to prop his elbows on his knees and pinch the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

"So what you mean to tell me is you fucked around with some ancient spell with a vigilante complex, got your ass blasted into the next town over, met your not-so-mini-me, tried to ET phone home, and got my Avengers beamed up instead?"

Loki took a second to think about that.

"I'm not entirely sure what you just said, but yes, that's basically what happened," he confirmed with a nod.

"Do you know how we can get them back?" Steven asked, steepling his fingers.

Loki shrugged, leaning back as he reopened his book. "We wait."

Before Fury even had time to think of questioning that statement, several loud thuds came from just outside the door, followed by several voices alternatively cursing and laughing in delight. The Sanctum's magic gave an odd little twist and jump before leaning towards the hallway, more curious of the appearance of the visitors on the other side than angry at their intrusion.

"Right on schedule," Loki said with a grin. He relaxed fully against the headboard of his bed for the first time all day, relief flooding through his bloodstream. There had always been the nagging doubt that the Mandala Effect would decide to not return them.

Fury shot from his chair and threw open the door to find the Avengers in the process of extricating themselves from the tangle of limbs that they had been dumped in on the floor. Tony was still in his Iron Man armor and had luckily landed at the bottom of the pile. But something was off. His armor was… bronze?

Fury blinked. Almost all of the Avengers were oddly dressed. Thor's outfit was even more Vikingish that it usually was, complete with a sheepskin vest, leather jerkin, and baggy green pants that were cinched at the waist with a leather thong (not the sexy kind, the cord). As Fury watched, he quickly pulled Steve to his feet, thundering something about dragon riding. The captain was dressing in floor-length dark blue robes and Fury could help but notice the lack of his shield. He could only hope that Steve hadn't misplaced it. Clint was dressed similarly to Thor, but without the sheepskin vest. Instead, he had a green and grey cloak slung over his shoulders with a flap at the base of his neck pushed back to expose the arrows in his quiver. As soon as he had scrambled to his feet, he pulled Nat into a tight hug. She usually wasn't one for displays of affection, but she gave him a brief, bone-crushing hug and buried her face into his shoulder. The red head wasn't in her usual sweatpants, sneakers, and hoodie. Instead, she was wearing jeans, muddied boots, an ACDC t-shirt, and a red flannel. When Tony finally whirred and clanked to his feet and noticed the shirt, he retracted his faceplate and gave her an appreciative smirk and thumbs up, then proceeded to double over in laughter when he saw the priest-like robes that Steve was dressed in. Bruce was the only one who was dressed even remotely like his normal self with a tan sweater and well-worn jeans. He simple stared at the chaos around him with a bemused smile from his seat against the wall. Fury could hear Loki and Dr. Strange walk up behind him and the three of them simply stared at the odd group.

Steve shot one last glare at Tony before turning to smile and nod respectfully at the three men. "We're back." His smile suddenly spread into a giddy grin. "You guys will never believe where we've been."

 **(A/N: DONE! Well, with the prologue, at least. :) Here's where everyone will be going: Clint will be going to Ranger's Apprentice, Tony will be going to Percy Jackson, Nat is heading to Supernatural, Thor's going to How to Train Your Dragon, Bruce will have the wonderfully horrifying experience of being deduced by BBC's Sherlock, and Steve is going to Harry Potter. :D I'll be putting out Clint's story first, so you guys will be able to read that soon. You don't have to read all of these stories in order to understand what's going on with the other characters, so you can pick and choose which ones sound interesting to you. Unfortunately, I will be putting these stories out in the order that the characters disappeared in chapter 1, so die-hard potter heads and sherlockians will have to wait a while for their fix. I hope you all enjoy!)**


End file.
